


At Love's End

by mysticmajestic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Breakups, Established Relationship, Established Shance, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Keith/Shiro - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stream of Consciousness, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 10:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticmajestic/pseuds/mysticmajestic
Summary: Keith stares up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. Everything is quiet, calm. The expanse of the bed next to him is empty. No noise, except for the passing car outside, their headlights strobing the walls momentarily. It’s been a long and he still can’t get used to this. Turns his head, expectshimto be there. Expects him to be sound asleep, the sheets twisted around him, shirt rucked up from his endless twitching. There’s nothing. It’s empty. Just like the last twenty times he checked.





	At Love's End

**Author's Note:**

> Just gonna preface this by saying that this is no slight against Keith/Shiro, but I nevertheless kept it out of the relationship tag. I always wanted to write a fic where they failed but Keith continued pining, but Shiro moved on. This is that fic.
> 
> Song lyrics below inspired this story, though the story doesn't fully follow along with the song's meaning. I highly recommend checking it out, it's very melancholic yet an incredibly good song.
> 
>  **Note:** The tense changes from present to past on purpose. Just in case anyone thought I made a mistake. ;)

_And no man is an island, oh this I know_  
But can't you see, oh?  
Maybe you were the ocean, when I was just a stone  
And no man is an island, oh this I know  
But can't you see, oh?  
Maybe you were the ocean, when I was just a stone  
So here we are  
And I don't wanna beg your pardon  
And I don't wanna ask you why  
But if I was to go my own way  
Would I have to pass you by?

(Black Flies—Ben Howard)

 

* * *

 

Keith stares up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. Everything is quiet, calm. The expanse of the bed next to him is empty. No noise, except for the passing car outside, their headlights strobing the walls momentarily. It’s been a long and he still can’t get used to this. Turns his head, expects _him_ to be there. Expects him to be sound asleep, the sheets twisted around him, shirt rucked up from his endless twitching. There’s nothing. It’s empty. Just like the last twenty times he checked.

Sighing, Keith shifts onto his side and beats his fist against the pillow until it feels comfortable beneath his head, and consigns himself to another night of restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

They’d been dating for months—nine, to be exact. To Keith, it had been perfect. Everything he ever wanted. From dates that ranged from days on a hiking trail to archery ranges to just plain old trips to the mall. They did everything together. He still remembers the way he laughed when he hit the bullseye, even though he’d done it ten consecutive times before.

 Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane was the kind of person that hit every point on Keith’s list. Funny, outdoorsy, “tall, dark, and handsome” with a love for puppies, rollercoasters, and the constellations in the sky that they had searched everywhere to see properly.

When Keith confessed and received a ‘yes, I’ll date you’ in reply, it had been a dream come true. He’d pinched himself several times when he got home, but it wasn’t a dream or a lie. Shiro wanted him too. They were together now.

He had found the one.

Or so he’d thought.

Truth be told, Keith never noticed the moment Shiro started getting bored with him. Stayed at work longer, hung out with friends he’d never normally gone out of his way to see. Couple activities became group activities, dragging the Holt siblings out, using them almost like a shield. Coming home early became late nights at work and apologies. Hikes stopped meaning mountain trails and became walking to the grocery store the next town over. Like a fool, Keith thought nothing of it. Shiro was just busy, that’s all.

But Shiro had found someone else.

Oh, Shiro never cheated. Still locked into a relationship with Keith, Shiro never romantically or sexually tested the waters with this person. It probably would’ve been better if he had; then Keith would’ve had something to rage about. To burn it all to the ground within reason. But Shiro was an honorable man—a fact that Keith used to love with a burning passion—and would never do that.

Instead, he’d come home one day and just. Ended it. Just like that. The relationship burned to embers at his feet so quickly he didn’t have a chance to save anything of it.

“I don’t expect that you’ll want to be friends with me after this,” said Shiro, bags full to bursting with his belongings. He’d taken everything he owned except for the pictures lining the walls and the mantelpiece. Those were for Keith, to remind him of what he lost. “But when you’re ready, I would like to be. We were great friends. But it just wasn’t meant to be anything more than that. I’m sorry.”

“Of course we can be friends,” Keith choked out, like an idiot. The thought of losing Shiro entirely scared the crap out of him. “I just…need a little time.”

Shiro gave him a tight smile. Looked as if he were about to clap Keith on the shoulder but thought twice about it. He turned and walked out of the house. The door only slammed shut because the wind blowing through an open window blew it shut. The echoing bang rang through his head like bells, signaling the end and a terrifying beginning.

He stood alone, just like he always had.

 

* * *

 

The name of Shiro’s new boyfriend was Lance Martinez, and he was everything that Keith wasn’t.

Lance Martinez was loud, very loud, and knew how to fill up a room with nothing but his personality. He was quirky and flirty, pressing into everyone’s personal space without a care—and they all let him, even if they’d only just met. The way he spoke, he drew attention, held a captive audience effortlessly. But the way he listened, it was like he’d never heard anything half as important as what was about to come out of your mouth.

And he loved Shiro a lot.

They were never far apart, Lance and Shiro. If they weren’t holding hands or draped over each other, they would, every few minutes, reaffirm the other’s position in the room. They orbited each other like a moon caught in a planet’s gravity, unable to pull away from each other.

It reminded Keith of all the times he left Shiro in the middle of a room and didn’t spare a second thought to where he was. Or how he’d unintentionally bat away Shiro’s hands when they reached for his, unlike Lance, who almost always made the first move.

Shiro preened under Lance’s loving touch, radiating such happiness that it was hard to do anything but smile in their presence. Resentment quickly turned to sadness.

Lance didn’t have the decency to treat Keith differently, despite knowing that he was Shiro’s ex. Didn’t give Keith any reason to be petty. They bickered, but somehow it was fun. He quickly forgot that he was supposed to hate Lance on principle.

Lance just had a knack for making himself fit, changing his demeanour based on the person. He was like water, filling every shape, leaving no spaces behind. He filled Keith’s space so easily it was like Keith had never been there, then made that hole bigger, changing it into something Keith would never be able to fill should he leave.

When Shiro invited Lance along to meet Keith, Pidge, and Matt, there had been nothing but excitement on his face. And love. There was a lot of that too. When was the last time he saw that expression on Shiro’s face? Keith couldn’t recall.

He hadn’t thought much of Lance back then, had thought him a mere rebound. Soon enough, Shiro would miss Keith; miss what they had together. Lance was a fun time, but Shiro and Keith had something real, and it was only a matter of time before Shiro knew it too.

It took a long time to realise that that wasn’t the case. And even longer to realise that the expression on Pidge’s face every time she looked at him had been _pity_ , not sympathy.

* * *

 

When Shiro had panic attacks in public, Keith had never known what to do. He wasn’t good at comforting people. Even worse at initiating physical contact. He had given Shiro silence he later realized was awkward, easily misinterpreted as _fed-up_.

As Shiro pieced himself slowly back together, Keith had always hurried him inside, away from the public eye. Sat next to him, didn’t touch, didn’t speak. Just let Shiro come back to himself in his own time. He’d thought that helped, but he’d come to realise it had been misconstrued as _ashamed_.

The perfect relationship he’d thought he’d had with Shiro had been nothing but a lie. Unintentionally, he had hurt Shiro, made him feel guilty. He’d always feared Shiro leaving, but he’d never known he’d be the one to chase him out the door.

But Shiro wasn’t an innocent party; he’d never told Keith where he went wrong. They never _talked_. If Shiro had said something, Keith would’ve worked harder to be better. He would have changed for Shiro. Done anything for him. Yet Shiro had never given him the opportunity. No wonder they failed.

On one of their group hang-outs, now accompanied by Lance’s best friend called Hunk, Shiro had a panic attack; a car backfired three streets over, setting off a chain of alarms. Shiro freaked out, grabbed Lance and Pidge and threw them to the ground to protect them, no longer there but in a warzone he’d long left behind. People stopped in the streets to stare at him. And not for the first time, Keith had no idea what to do.

But Lance? Lance did. As easy as breathing, he coaxed Shiro back into the present. Talked to him until the awareness came back, then, with permission, rubbed his back and arms, smoothed sweaty hair from his forehead. Like a scared child, Shiro moved into the touch, chest heaving like he’d done a marathon. He clutched at Lance like he was scared he’d move away, leave him alone in the middle of a rain-dampened street to deal with the audience they had inadvertently obtained.

“Hunk,” said Lance, “Shiro needs some water, his throat’s dry. Can you run to the nearest convenience store and grab a bottle of water? Thanks, buddy.”

Hunk took off running to the gas station convenience store they’d passed one street back.

“I’m sorry, Lance,” Shiro choked.

“It’s not your fault.” Lance kissed Shiro on the temple. “You couldn’t help it. Hey, why don’t we sit on that bench over there, yeah? Hunk’ll be back in a minute with the water.”

“O-okay.” Still holding onto Lance tight, Shiro allowed himself to be guided to the bench, Matt hurrying to his other side to help Lance support his weight. When Hunk came back with the water, Lance encouraged Shiro to drink, and never let go of him, not even once.

They had only been dating for three months, and Lance did everything right. Did everything Keith could not. As Shiro whispered apologies into the crook of Lance’s neck, Lance cradled him, soothed him. That was the first day that Keith unwillingly recognised the truth.

And all hope slipped from his hands like water.

 

* * *

 

Keith can’t do this anymore.

Surging out of bed, he storms into the kitchen for a glass of water, pausing in the living room only to turn the television on and give him some background noise. Even if it is an infomercial about the “new and improved” steam mop. If he’s going to be awake all night, he’d rather not just wallow in self-pity and regret.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping at his water, he remembers the promise he made when he realised Shiro was never coming back: _No matter what, I’ll be happy for him._ And he is happy for Shiro, it’s just his stupid heart hasn’t gotten the memo yet. The nights when the regrets come back full-force are the hardest.

It seems like he can’t go more than a week without these thoughts. Little things he does, inconsequential and unrelated to any of the problems his previous relationship had had, suddenly takes him back. Making a coffee turns into “What if I had been more observant? Would Shiro still be here?” Changing out of his work clothes turns into “If I had let him grab my hand that night, would he be in my bed and not Lance’s?”

It’s fucking stupid and he knows it. Shiro and Lance adopted a puppy last week, a little Rottweiler puppy that they’d named Black to compliment the name of Lance’s ragdoll cat called Blue. Shiro’s happy _there_. Yet the traitorous thoughts of ‘what if?’ still remains.

One day he’ll be over it entirely. A finished chapter in a book he’ll never read again. But as he sits down on the sofa and puts his feet up on the coffee table, listens to that upbeat voiceover telling him how the steam mop will change his life forever, he allows himself a few more hours to be miserable.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked! 
> 
> I hope that the stream of consciousness wasn't annoying. It's my first time writing something like this, where Keith is reflecting on everything in the time before he sleeps so its a bit all over the place. Kinda like how it would be if you thought about a whole chunk of time you wish you could do over but can't anymore, so you have to live with those regrets. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr [@mystic-majestic](http://mystic-majestic.tumblr.com/)


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